


So Close

by champagne_cake



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sappy, Songfic, eric and al dance to that jon mclaughlin song from disney enchanted, mentions of thorns of death and the stuff that comes with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_cake/pseuds/champagne_cake
Summary: Eric attends a human ball with the intention of expediting his harrowing bid to save Alan's life, when he's intercepted by Alan himself — and a song.
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	So Close

**Author's Note:**

> Eric's wearing a Victorian men's frock similar to [this](https://www.mimimatthews.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/1805-1810-mens-cutaway-tail-coat-via-mint-museum1.jpg). Put on [So Close](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UtnXJy5b5I) from Enchanted when it starts in the fic for the Full Effect™.

An early summer gala filled with at least a hundred pure, innocent souls — distracted, unknowing, and unprepared. For a more experienced killer, one could say it was almost far too easy.

But for Eric Slingby, it was yet another leap down a cold, winding path — one he could never come back from, should he fail. And this would be a massive leap in his journey to collect a thousand pure souls for the smallest ray of hope, in order to save the love of his life. Alan...pure Alan. What sin, on this cruel earth, had he possibily committed to deserve such a fate? Eric had never planned to rob so many souls all in one place; it’d always been somebody here, and someone else there. But at that rate, he would move far too slowly. The Thorns would surely beat him, and he refused to allow that.

Eric scanned the ballroom — one hand nursing a glass of champagne, (he didn’t actually like the stuff all that much — it was a bit too _frou-frou_ for his tastes) the other arm tucked against his waist, concealing his death scythe underneath a black frock. It was a costume he wore to blend in at events like this.

Plasticity, superficiality, false enthusiasm. That’s what made up all of these noble gatherings; and thus, he hated them. The sooner he could get it out and over with, the better. He’d strike once the music started again.

Finishing off the wine, and nodding sagely as a footman accepted the empty glass, Eric squinted, noticing — no, it couldn’t be… _was it?_

There stood a lonely figure on the balcony, watching the party from a distance. Although partially shrouded in darkness, it was apparent the fly on the wall was a short man in a simple black suit, and soft brown hair. It was Alan, without a single doubt.

Looking precariously to make sure no one was the wiser, Eric carefully slid his death scythe from where it was hooked onto his clothing, down underneath a tablecloth. Straightening his tie, he began to wade through the crowd. “Pardon me...pardon...” Eric shifted awkwardly across the floor in order to reach the other reaper.

“Alan!” he called out, approaching the balcony.

The younger reaper jumped a bit, as if snapped out of a spell, before exclaiming, “Eric!” Looking around awkwardly, he was at a minor loss for words. What on earth was his superior doing at a summer gala? Wearing such formal clothing, no less?

Alan had a collection nearby — one he finished quickly on his own; so as a result, he had the rest of the evening to himself. Whenever he heard of human parties out in town, he made a habit over time, of stopping by to watch. It was both a form of entertainment and catharsis for him, hearing the live music, and watching everyone dance in their finest clothing. He was able to live vicariously through them from a safe distance, both physically and socially.

Alan had to admit, though — it was a bit amusing seeing his former mentor dressed like a real nineteenth-century noble — or a parody of one. He was cautious, but curious what led his senior here. After all, Eric Slingby wasn’t into ballroom dancing — at least not to his knowledge. Folding his arms playfully, he spoke once more. “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Slingby. I didn’t recall seeing any collections taking place at a ball tonight. Nothing mentioning formalwear, either.”

“Little personal assignment from HQ — they wanted to test out our conspicuousness among humans, wearing different types of clothing on missions. So I’m just here to drink a little, flirt a little, and hopefully not get caught. Dream mission, eh?” He grinned cheekily off the side of his face toward the end. Eric was a smooth talker, indeed, but he knew Alan was wiser than that. He hoped, though, that this time he would fall for a lie.

Alan nodded without questioning him. “Ronald and Grell must be proper jealous,” he responded with a knowing smile, eyes shifting to the frock itself. It fit well enough, but the cut was clearly tailored for a slightly shorter man. “It’s quite the look.”

“You should see the one with the wig,” Eric joked, sliding further into his façade. “Would’ve had Louis the 16th running for the hills!”

Alan stifled a laugh from behind a gloved hand, imagining the sight of Eric Slingby, senior reaper of Collections, dressed in elaborate French court wear. “And it would've won over Marie Antoinette, I’m sure.” The two chuckled as a song drew to a close, and dancers applauded the orchestra.

“So why’re _you_ here, Al?” Eric questioned. “There _were_ no deaths scheduled at this party.”

“Oh…” Alan muttered, now slightly deflated, and eyes shifting downward. He wasn’t sure if his superior would judge him for taking time off the beaten path, despite it being on his own time. “...I’m just fond of witnessing them, I suppose. Seeing humans live out their lives, and be happy — it can be relaxing after a long day. And the orchestra tonight’s been fantastic.”

“Not my cup of tea,” Eric shrugged.

As if on cue, the music started once more — this time, a sad slow dance. A soloist entered with the first few notes of the piano.

“Really?” Alan pondered, looking at him again. “It’s quite nice, if you ask me.” He exhaled peacefully — gazing off into the distance with wistful eyes. “Perfect song for a dance.”

“Would you like to?”

As if snapped from a daydream once again, Alan was taken aback — shocked by his request. _“...me…?_ Us... _dance?”_

“No one else out here missin’ all the fun.”

_You’re in my arms, and all the world is calm.  
_

_The music playing on, for only two._

“But...what if they look at us? You’re the only one wearing a costume to blend in. And...besides…” Alan’s voice became small, hoping Eric understood what he meant.

“Alan,” Eric spoke, now drawing close. One hand moved from the side of his frock to the edge of the shorter man's chin, gently raising his gaze to once more meet his. “If they find out we aren’t just a couple of fully-mortal humans, inches away from certain death, and decide to give us the boot, I’ll be right there the whole time. And I’m right here right now. Always going to be.” _If they have something to say about us...then let it be known those just might be their last words._

“Eric…” At a loss for words, he drew closer, moving to support the back of his neck, as his eyes did the rest of the talking. _I understand. I’ll dance with you. I want you._

Alan stepped forward, positioning himself at Eric’s side as they prepared to enter the ballroom.

 _Alright, just like they do in the period movies._ Releasing from his embrace, Eric turned so his body faced the ballroom, and held out his left hand out to Alan. Once he felt the other’s hand in his own, he led him carefully into the luminous room — closer and closer to the music.

Alan turned to face Eric, arms raised carefully to wrap around his partner.

“Other way,” he chuckled, as Eric raised the wrong hand to the back of his shoulder blade.

“Slip of the wrist.”

“I would’ve expected better from such a handsome nobleman.”

"Ah, cut me some slack. Didn't exactly come _prepared_ to court such a _bloody fine_ reaper."

_All that I wanted, to hold you so close._

_So close to reaching that famous happy end._

_Almost believing this one's not pretend._

_And now you're beside me, and look how far we've come._

**_So far, we are — so close._ **

They found themselves in the very center of the ballroom as the crescendo ascended. And _ah, like a dream,_ it was as if they were the only ones in the room. Eric finally watched all Alan’s inhibitions fall, as he smiled wide and without reserve — letting his head fall back, as Eric took him in a circle, and spun him back around.

Everything was spinning — though not dizzying — and all the lights illuminated Alan’s face like that of an angel — his features practically glowing. _Christ, he’s beautiful. He’s so beautiful._ Alan never missed a step, mesmerizing Eric as he danced like a gazelle in spring. It was a moment all their own, despite the blurs of crowds around them — all distracted in their own little moments. It was one Eric wanted to hold on to forever. As the bridge came to a close, it also bridged the gap between them, as Alan circled back to his partner — once again meeting arms and impassioned gazes.

_Oh, how could I face the faceless days, if I should lose you now?_

_We're so close to reaching_ _that famous happy end._

 _Almost believing_ _this one's not pretend._

 _Let's go on dreaming, for_ _we know we are..._

_So close…_

“Eric,” Alan whispered, nuzzled close to his face, as they now found themselves back on that balcony, away from the party.

_So close..._

“Alan.”

“I love you,” Alan continued, lips pressing gently against Eric's, as his arms rose to embrace his partner.

_And still...so far._

With a content, knowing sigh several moments later, “Love you too, Al.”

 _I’ll protect you,_ Eric promised, one hand moving to the back of Alan’s head, as if shielding him from the cruel allure of death. He faced only the light of the bright, full moon, and all the stars surrounding it — mere afterimages of ones who died years and years past, making them all witness to his promise.

_I won’t let you go into the night all by yourself, Alan._

_Not before your time._

_I promise._


End file.
